Jewel of Persia

Kasia started and sat up, a hand to her chest. “How can a man who travels with a whole slew of servants surprise me so frequently?”


He chuckled and sat on the edge of her bed. “I suspect it is because you give yourself so fully to your tasks. Vashti is . . . ?”

“It carries the same meaning as Amestris.” She rocked back on her heels and then stood.

Xerxes grinned. “She would hate it. We all ought to make it a point to call her that.”

“Xerxes.” Though she chided him, she sat beside him and snuggled into his side.

When he slid an arm around her and held her like this, it was as if the rest of the world ceased to matter. If only it were so. “How can you pray for her? She would be the

first to call herself your enemy.”

“All the more reason to beseech Jehovah on her behalf.” Her gaze fell to the shawl draped over him, her hands splaying against the fabric. “This is exquisite. Such detail

in the weaving—I have far to go before my skill could match it.”

Xerxes lifted the hem of his favorite garment. “Amestris began it when my father announced I would be his heir. I wore it the first time when the crown was put on my head.

Perhaps I ought to put it away now, given—”

“No.” Kasia traced one of the shapes with a light finger. “You ought to wear it still, as a reminder of a time when things were better between you. Of all she invested in

you and your children.” She smiled up at him from under the sweep of long, black lashes. “The present ought not negate the past.”

Was it any wonder his brother desired her too? Her heart could not be matched. He drew in a long breath and cupped her cheek in one hand. “Mother told me what happened with

Masistes. Are you all right?”

Her shoulders stiffened under his arm, but she only cuddled closer. “Your mother assures me it was nothing to be upset about.”

“A neat avoidance of the question.”

She sighed. “I do not understand how he could take such a thing so lightly. He threatened my family as if life meant nothing, insisted on adultery as though it were not a

crime deserving of death, and then laughed it off as if the whole thing meant no more to him than what bowl they serve his dinner in.”

A chuckle slipped out. “A bowl? Really?”

She sent him an exaggerated scowl. “Sometimes, my love, I think the more bowls one has to eat out of, the less one realizes that the important things in this world are not

made of gold or silver.”

Until he held her, he had not understood that. “Yet you now have limitless bowls.”

“No, the bowls are yours.” When she smiled at him like that, his heart melted like gold in a furnace. “All I can claim is you—and that is all I shall ever need.”

“Ah, I love you, Kasia.” He kissed her to be sure she believed him, then smiled upon pulling away. “I suppose it is a blessing that you have not all the trappings of most

women. It will be easier for you to prepare to join me in Greece.”

Those beautiful brown eyes went wide. “I will go? Your brother said—”

“I had not made up my mind. There are always dangers in war, and I want you safe above all. But as my mother pointed out, there are dangers at home as well. I would worry

incessantly if you were not beside me.”

She bounced, laughed, and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, my love. I would have missed you so much.”

“Have you a preference on which other concubines come? I know not all have been kind to you . . .”

Arms still linked around his neck, she made herself comfortable in his lap and leaned back to regard him. “You would let me choose?”

A corner of his mouth tugged up. “I would hear your opinion, anyway.”

She puckered her mouth up and seemed to mentally tick off a list. “Lalasa and Diona have not been among the cruel ones.”

“Kasia.” He narrowed his eyes. “They are the only two I have spent any time with since you joined us. Do you name them because you think they could be your friends, or

because you think they are my choices?”

“I think they could be my friends because they are your choices.” She managed to look both sweet and mischievous. “Which of your wives do you suppose are cruelest to me?

Those you have still paid attention to or those you have ignored?”

He sighed. “Lalasa and Diona, then.”

Zethar drew his gaze with a lift of his arm. “Master, a delivery for the lady. Furniture.”

“Oh!” Kasia jumped up as servants entered with their burdens.

Xerxes joined her and examined the pieces as they came in. The table took its place first. “Beautiful. Your father is talented.”

“This is my brother’s touch.” She traced a finger over the design carved into the legs. “Little though he enjoys the work, he excels at it.” She turned to the chairs

and frowned, though Xerxes could not see why. They were magnificent too—his steward had done well to offer the full commission. “These are also by Zechariah.”

Ah, that explained the frown. She would wonder if her father’s refusal to put his hand to the job had some deeper meaning.